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Rampage (story)
There are cities that seem to be stuck in ‘crime novel’ weather permanently. If the fog isn’t thick enough to obscure then next street corner then there’s undoubtedly a light drizzle of rain that works its way under your collar and slowly but surely soaks your shoes through until you dread every single step. If there’s ever a nice day here then surely no one can remember it. In this particular city and during this particular night, the weather was set on “light drizzle, with occasional heavy downpour surprise”. Deep puddles were forming here and there, forcing two dark-clad figures to sidestep and jump in a rather graceless manner as they tried to save their socks from certain soaking. One of them was almost certainly male, though the excessive eyeliner did cast some doubt over the matter. He was dressed in what would have been a rather menacing long black coat, if he hadn’t accented it with bright orange sneakers, red chequered scarf and a baseball cap. He was rather short, and a good deal too thin for the coat to fit properly. The other figure was a young woman with pale blond hair, pale skin and thin lips. She wore pants and jacket in a grey camouflage pattern, and boots with steel toe-cap. Her name was Andrea, and she had an umbrella. Terrence, the alleged male, had mostly been thinking of that umbrella when he suggested they make company for the night. That, and the rather sharp set of fangs she sported. “So, how long’ve you been a vampire?” She gave him a Look. The kind of capital letter Look that you earn by asking socially unacceptable questions. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Terrence pulled down his scarf a bit and flashed his own fangs. “I’ve been for three – almost four years now. Got the virus from a friend who went renegade.” He waited while the silence stretched out like cheap bubblegum in the hands of a toddler. Then, with a long-suffering sigh, Andrea gave in. “About two years. I had an accident and some numbnut thought he’d do me a favour by making me a bloodsucker instead of leaving me to die. I still don’t know if I should be grateful to be alive or kick his head in for making me sleep in subway stations like some hobo.” They stepped in under a port as a car drove by, showering the sidewalk with muddled rainwater. Terrance took the opportunity to make sure that no one else was out on the street. “Hey, could be worse. I’ve heard that before the subway was built most of us lived in the sewers. I don’t think I’d be able to handle that kind of stench.” They exchanged the kind of awkward smiles you reserve for people you share a disease but nothing else with, and continued their walk. “So, um, what happened to that renegade friend of yours?” Terrence shrugged, and mumbled something into his scarf. He didn’t much mind being a nocturnal bloodsucker – but it had been a different matter with his friend and discussing someone’s psychological breakdown wasn’t something he was comfortable with. “Sorry, didn’t catch that – what’s a rain page?” Terrence was about to correct her when a howl sounded through the streets. It was an impossible long cry that pitched high, gave your backbone a good shaking before fading into something like a dark moan. It wasn’t how a dog or wolf would howl – but it was bloody well not human. The second cry was, and then Andrea had taken an iron hold of Terrence’s arm. “Please tell me that whatever the hell made that sound isn’t as close as I think it is.” “Would it make you feel better if I said that I think it already has found a prey?” “A bit. Let’s get out of here!” She made to walk away but still held Terrence’s arm tightly. And Terrence wasn’t moving. “Come on, why aren’t we gone already?! Whatever that is it sounds like bad news. Do you hear me?” Terrence, after two attempts, managed to struggle free from the grip, but he kept his eyes in the direction of the two screams. “I hear you, I hear you. But we can’t leave some poor sod to be a living chew toy for whatever that is, can we?” “’Course we can - and that poor sod probably won’t be alive for much longer anyway I reckon.” “Better hurry then, don’t we?” Terrence didn’t look back at Andrea as he ran off towards the two cries. The drizzle had shifted into a downpour but he could still hear the woman hurl off some hefty profanities before she followed. Before long they picked up the heady, mouth-watering smell of fresh blood. A lot of fresh blood. Category:World 47 Category:Stories Category:WIP Category:All Pages Category:Needs a picture